


maybe the real cryptid was the love we found along the way

by YourPalYourBuddy



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pets, Short & Sweet, my cat went missing and lead me to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 08:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24966658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourPalYourBuddy/pseuds/YourPalYourBuddy
Summary: “Where do you live?” Holster says, and the cat now looks at him like it’s sayingI’m a cat!“Right, duh.”______________Prompted from tumblr: "My cat has been missing for like a week because you thought it was a friendly stray and let it stay in your apartment while I’ve been two houses down panicking" with Holsom? big Holster with little cats is my kryptonite tbhShort & sweet, Holster's POV :)
Relationships: Adam "Holster" Birkholtz/Justin "Ransom" Oluransi
Comments: 22
Kudos: 200





	maybe the real cryptid was the love we found along the way

________________________

Wednesday afternoon there’s an orange cat on his doorstep when Holster comes back from work. Holster blinks, adjusting the strap of his briefcase on his shoulder. Somehow the cat’s still there when he stops fidgeting. It stretches like it’s not gonna be leaving any time soon.

“Okay,” he mutters, gingerly stepping closer to the door. The cat meows at him and noses his leg. Holster freezes, which must be an invitation in Cat World because the cat starts twining between his legs and purs audibly. 

This has to be someone’s cat, right? Holster doesn’t know a lot about cats aside from a three day odyssey in college when Chowder tried to hide a cat in the living room and it ended up eating all of their shoes before they realized it wasn’t a completely ugly cat but was, instead, a perfectly adequate opossum. But theres no way a cat would be so friendly if it wasn’t someone’s pet. Probably? 

He crouches to check if the cat has a collar and gets a faceful of fur as the cat headbutts him. He spares a moment to be thankful that he had his mouth shut, pulling back, and the cat seems to give him a look that says  _ pet me you doofus _ so Holster does. The cat purs even louder at that.

“Where do you live?” Holster says, and the cat now looks at him like it’s saying  _ I’m a cat! _ “Right, duh.”

He’s at a complete loss. He picks up the cat — it seems to melt in his arms; have cats always done this? Maybe Holster should get a cat — and opens the door, careful not to drop it. The cat does its best impression of a Salvador Dali clock, still purring.

Holster spends the next day calling his friends for advice. They’re all mostly unhelpful. Jack doesn’t even pick up his phone, not that he’s surprised; Jack is perpetually on Do Not Disturb because “you’re always disturbing me,” as if there was anything disturbing about the time Holster asked the group chat which cryptid they’d fuck if they could fuck a cryptid. 

Bitty (Honey Island Swamp Monster) says, “Congrats, Dad,” Chowder (Nessie) tells him to double check that it’s actually a cat before letting it in his sock drawer, Shitty (Sasquatch) says something like  _ you fucker I told you you were a cat guy, _ and Lardo (Yeti) just tells him he should probably take the cat to the vet and go from there, which is actually helpful but she was high when she told him, so it took way longer for her to finish her sentence than it should have.

Holster makes an appointment for Tuesday. In the meantime, he stocks up on cat food and various accessories and maybe too many of those feather toy things and a litter box and also a cat bed, just in case. It’s probably early to buy all of this now but he triple checked the return policies, so it’s probably fine. Gerald — the cat looks like a Gerald, okay — ignores the cat bed completely in favor of sleeping with Holster, so Holster wakes up with ten pounds of cat on his chest. He’d be annoyed if it wasn’t so cute. Even if Gerald sometimes leaves way too much hair on his shirts.

Every morning he checks the lampposts on his way to and from work to see if someone posted any fliers. Every morning there’s nothing. He tries not to hope too badly.

Tuesday afternoon before his appointment there’s a stranger in scrubs knocking on his door when Holster comes home from work. He makes his way up the path to the door warily. They must hear Holster’s Jeep beep when he locks it, because the guy turns around faster than blinking.

“Hi, I’m sorry,” the stranger says, but Holster’s brain has suddenly short circuited the same way the TV did when Chowder’s opossum chewed through the cables. There’s a single thought bouncing around his brain when he gets a good look at the stranger’s face and it’s  _ cheekbones holy shit. _

The guy’s still speaking. “—sorry to ambush you but I can’t lose her, I was at work and just got off my shift and my kitchen window was open somehow and I just—”

“It’s okay,” Holster says. He blinks, trying to absorb the sunlight bouncing off the guy’s cheekbones. “Uh, who are you looking for?”

The guy says, “My cat,” and there’s a cat-sized weight pressing on Holster’s sternum.

“Ah.” 

“Yeah, she’s orange and about this big,” the guy says, shaping his hands out like he’s holding a loaf of bread. “Super friendly.”

It was, he thinks, probably gonna happen at some point. He does his best to swallow the disappointment. It’s still bitter in his mouth.

“You mean Gerald,” Holster says, unlocking the door. 

The guy starts to say something like  _ no, my cat’s Clementine  _ but cuts off when Holster pushes the door open properly. Gerald-Clementine meows from her usual spot on the kitchen table, looking between the both of them, and then hops onto the floor and weaves between both of their feet. 

“Hey pretty lady,” the guy breathes, crouching down to pet her properly. “I missed you so bad.” 

Holster’s stomach twists uncomfortably when the guy stands back up with Gerald-Clementine in his arms. The guy clears his throat, and Holster watches his eyes take in the cat feeder and the water bowl and cat bed, all of which still have price tags on them. 

“You really went all out for her,” the guy comments. When he looks at Holster there’s some faint line between his eyebrows that Holster can’t parse the meaning of. 

Holster rubs the back of his neck. “She’s a good cat,” he says. “Even if she almost smothered me in my sleep five times.”

The guy’s eyes brighten. “Did she?” he says, scratching Gerald-Clementine behind an ear. The cat purs. “She doesn’t normally sleep on people unless she really likes them.”

Holster can’t help noticing how pretty his eyes are and how pretty they are when the guy’s looking at him like  _ that. _ Like he’s studying Holster closely.

“She doesn’t?”

The guy shakes his head. “Nope.” Then he pauses, adjusting Gerald-Clementine in his arms. “This is maybe a weird thing to say — and feel free to say no, obviously — but when cats like people then those people are typically pretty amazing, so I was wondering, if you’re free sometime soon would you maybe want to—?”

“Do you wanna get coffee?” Holster blurts. It must be the right thing to say, because the guy’s face lights up.

He says, “I’d like that a lot,” and holds out his hand. “I’m Justin, I go by Ransom.”

“Adam,” Holster says,  “but my friends call me Holster. Do you always let your cat set you up?”

Ransom smiles at him. “Only when it seems worth it.”

____________

Five months later it’s the middle of the night and Holster wakes up next to Ransom (Mothman) with a ten pound cat purring on his chest. Carefully, so he doesn’t wake either of them up, Holster buries his fingers in Gerald-Clementine’s fur and holds Ransom closer, tracing a lazy pattern on Ransom’s bare shoulder. He feels Ransom smiles against his skin.

________________________

**Author's Note:**

> I can't do Titles rn but it made me laugh so
> 
> Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you thought in the comments or [come say hi on Tumblr :)](https://ivecarvedawoodenheart.tumblr.com/)


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